The hooded instrument panel on the 2013 G550 Mercedes-Benz houses black-faced gauges, and a 5-by-7-inch navigation screen protrudes from the shallow dash.

Mercedes-Benz

Let’s start a little fight somewhere.

We won’t need guns or knives or any of those squinty-eyed cable-TV kick-boxers who get paid to chew each other’s ears off in front of cameras.

Is this a great plugged-in country or what?

Paint guns and water balloons are all I need. Like all overgrown boys — OK, OK, old boys — I just want an excuse to run amok in the woods and play army.

And, of course, a chance to hoon around in a 2013 G550 Mercedes-Benz, the legendary “G-wagen,” a vehicle more upright than a Pentecostal preacher with just about as many unforgiving edges.

You want to yell “incoming” or break into military gibberish every time you drive it — “Yo, gunner, tango, incest, Nigeria, god …”

Think of it as tough-guy transport for swinging Russian entrepreneurs with suspicious luggage.

Well, maybe not. Here’s the deal, though: The G-wagen is so constrained in a congested city that you never get even a taste of its considerable off-road potential — the three independent differential locks or the permanent four-wheel drive, two-speed transfer case.

Whose building downtown should we climb today?

So it’s kind of hard to rationalize the dirt-loving and outrageously expensive G-wagen ($114,155) — short for Geländewagen, or cross-country vehicle — while it languishes on concrete.

But I appreciate automotive diversity and freedom of choice, so I will celebrate its goofy existence.

Odd proportions

Of course, first I needed to figure out how to catapult myself into its lofty driver’s seat.

The G-wagen is so tall that the surface of its roof is five degrees cooler than its running boards. OK, maybe not. But the G is nearly 6 feet 5 inches tall and a bit less than 6 feet wide, according to Edmunds.com, which makes for some truly odd proportions.

From the front, it kind of looked like some giant European ambulance swaying through traffic.

Its flat front, brightened some by a butchy chrome brush-bar and three-bar grille, bumped into square front fenders and slab sides.

You can’t miss the G’s enormous greenhouse area — windows so tall they seemed fit for a pope or a tour bus.

In fact, the G-wagen’s height and head-room still baffle me. Maybe Germans like to go off-roading in top hats while bouncing around to sausage-and-beer music.

The G’s doors, complete with relatively low-mounted handles, shut with the reassuring thunk of something lifted from a freightliner.

Moreover, nice-looking gray leather seats with perforated centers provided good support and a dash of luxury to an interior that was far more functional than fabulous.

Weird ride

Sitting behind the square-cut windshield, you peer out over the hood below you — kind of like staring down at a first-floor patio from a second-story balcony.

And those giant windows became screens at night, reflecting the ghostly images of vehicles in the lanes around you.

It could be profoundly weird without any psychedelic aftereffects.

Nonetheless, I knew I would find things to like about the G the second I fired it up.

You probably can’t see it in the photos, but the eccentric G-wagen features two down-turned exhaust pipes in front of each rear wheel, both running from free-flowing mufflers.

Holy NASCAR, Batman. The Good Old Boy exhaust system spat out great snarls and snorts from the German 5.5-liter, 382-horse V-8 — another heartening example of international cooperation.

Despite its formidable bulk, the G sprinted to 60 mph in an amazing 5.9 seconds, according to Car and Driver. The downside was 12 miles per gallon fuel economy in the city and 15 on the highway, according to the EPA.

The G’s fat torque surged right off throttle, the muscled-up mill rumbling like it was ready for another Prius appetizer.

Horsepower came on in the mid-range, galloping with surprising vigor to 6,000 rpm or so as it clicked off brisk muscle-car shifts from its seven-speed automatic.

It could be a bit disorienting, like driving the world’s fastest stool.

Handling, as you might expect, was ponderous — a bit like trying to pull your fat brother in a wagon around a tight corner.

While never lethal-feeling, the G’s corner-characteristics included a fair amount of lean and minimal-feeling grip.

But what would you expect from a big, top-heavy SUV? Similarly, the ride was stiff, aided some by generous wheel-travel in the suspension.

But some bumps induced head-toss as the big Benz rocked from side to side, and the steering was slow, heavy and thick.

I admit I never really understood the G550 — probably because I didn’t sample its off-road proficiencies.

But I give it major points for distinction. And, as people in West Plano and Preston Hollow know, that three-pointed Mercedes-Benz star can generally cover the rest.